Risky Game

by Tracy Solheim

  “We’re not having sex, Brody.” Too bad she didn’t sound as sure of herself as she had the first time she’d said that to him.

  His hand slid up over the bare skin beneath her sweatshirt. She shivered as his thumb grazed her pebbled nipple. “Parts of you are saying otherwise.”

  She let out a lusty sigh that was nearly his undoing. “Those parts don’t get a vote.”

  Apparently her brain was doing a better job ignoring the rest of her body than his was.

  Her voice trembled. “I’m not sleeping with a man who’s blackmailing me. One who doesn’t trust me.”

  And there was the crux of their problem. No matter how great the sexual attraction was, neither trusted the other. Brody had already slept with too many women happy to sell out intimate details to the highest bidder. Shannon knew his most damaging secret. Taking her to bed would just give her more reason to share his secrets when he broke up with her.

  “You’re right. I don’t trust you.” He felt dejected as he said it.

  Again, he banged his head against the refrigerator. Slowly slipping his hands out from under her clothing, he patted her sweatshirt down. Shannon ceased kneading his lower back, one-by-one slapping her palms against the stainless steel door. Her breathing was still a bit shallow as he stepped away, avoiding all eye contact. Staggering to the sink, Brody sloshed his face with cold water. Definitely not the part of him that needed it, but he’d have to make do under the circumstances.

  When he turned back toward Shannon, she was chopping vegetables again, her hand on the knife trembling slightly. Brody felt like an ass for revving her up like that, but he’d needed to get Bridgett off his case. His sister was way too intelligent. Once she got hold of something, she was like a terrier, not letting go until she discovered what’s inside. A lot like the woman standing in front of him.

  Shannon chewed on her bottom lip. “If we caught the snitch, we wouldn’t have trust issues anymore.”

  Yep, definitely like Bridgett.

  Brody grimaced. “Not this again,” he said, leaning a hip against the countertop.

  She looked over her shoulder at him, trepidation in her whiskey eyes. “I’m serious, Brody. This would be the perfect weekend to try it. I heard Mr. Carter talking with the staff from the league office. All the teams are restricting access to their locker rooms until the blog site is identified. With an away game, that means we could narrow down the suspect pool significantly.”

  “If the snitch takes the bait.”

  Apparently, that was all the go-ahead she needed. She grabbed a manila envelope out of her book bag. “There’s a store right near campus. All we have to do is pick something out of this catalog . . .”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Brody roared as she waved a color catalog of sex toys in his face like a red flag in front of a charging bull. “I was this close”—he held up his thumb and forefinger scant millimeters apart—“to jumping your bones a minute ago and now you shove this thing at me. Just what are those two people doing on the cover, anyway?” Forget the cold shower; now he needed a long swim in an icy pond.

  Shannon tried to cram the catalog back into the envelope, but Brody grabbed it out of her hands. “This stuff is disgusting,” he said thumbing through the slick pages featuring cock rings, vibrators, and various restraints. His jockey shorts were getting tighter with each page he eyed. He looked up into her mulish face. “Tell me you didn’t go into a store that sells this . . . smut?” he demanded.

  “And if I did?”

  Her answer angered him and excited him at the same time. “I told you already, I’m not displaying a sex toy in my locker for some snitch and all my teammates to see!”

  “For pity’s sake, Brody. If you’re that chicken, just put the catalog in your locker. You obviously find it arousing.” She glanced down at his shorts. “Maybe the snitch will, too.”

  Brody felt the muscles in the back of his neck squeezing off the oxygen to his brain. “No.” He tried to cram the catalog back into the envelope, but there were other papers inside of it. Shannon’s face went white as he pulled them out. “What the hell is this?”

  A tussle ensued as Shannon tried to retrieve the document. She was all Texas wildcat, but Brody was stronger and she ended up pinned against the refrigerator again. Only this time, he was the only one turned on. The passion reflected in her eyes was definitely anger, and if he was reading her right, a little bit of embarrassment. She tried to wiggle free, but he held her fast as he scanned the pages in his hand.

  “Holy shit,” he whispered. All the fight left her body and she went limp against him. “This says you’re going to work at a prison.” Brody couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “I don’t understand.”

  “What’s to understand,” she said crisply. “Prisoners have got to eat, too.”

  He shifted his weight, pushing her into the stainless steel door while summoning his caveman. “You can’t work in prison.”

  “Ooooof!” Shannon yelled, jabbing her nails into his chest to shove him off her. Tears were leaking from her eyes. “Says the man who has everything. Who’s never had to work for a thing in his life!” She jerked the papers from his fingers and waved them in his face. “This, this job, will ensure my mama gets to keep her livelihood. A situation you or your family has never faced. And you never will face with your gobs of money!” She stabbed a finger into his shoulder. “The rest of the world wasn’t born with your gifts”—she practically spat the word out at him—“of good looks, affluence, and athletic ability. The rest of us have to carve out whatever we want.” She shoved the papers back into her book bag. “Some of us are so desperate for money that we’ll do things we know we shouldn’t. Yes, I was in that locker room that night, but I couldn’t go through with it. I don’t care if you believe me anymore, Brody.” She swiped a tear off her cheek. “The terms of your blackmail only require me to make sure you eat a nutritiously balanced diet. But you have no say-so in what I do with the rest of my life!”

  She turned back to the cutting board and began to furiously chop up the remaining vegetables. Brody dragged his hands through his hair. He didn’t dare move a muscle near her, fearful of what she’d do with the knife.

  Shannon was right, he didn’t understand what drove her. The perfect bubble he lived his life in insulated him from the type of drama she persevered through every day. Not for the first time, Brody wondered what his life would have been like if he’d grown up more like her. What type of man would he have become outside of football?

  She moved to slicing the chicken, her breath coming in deep gulps. “You know what the sad part is, Brody?” she mumbled. “I would have considered the phone sex thing if you’d agreed to help me.”

  He had to smile at her tenacity. And her willingness to fool around. This woman never gave up on the things she believed in. Her family. Her neighbors. Hard work. And the truth. Brody desperately wanted her to believe in him, too. And, in a moment of pure clarity, he knew what he had to do.

  Still wary of the knife, he carefully stepped behind her, bracketing his hands on the counter on either side of her and rested his head on her shoulder. “We’re not having phone sex.”

  Her whole body slumped in dejection.

  Brody smiled against the delicate skin on her neck. “You’re not that woman who trades sexual favors in exchange for something else, Shannon. And phone sex, if it’s done well, is definitely a sexual favor.”

  Shannon’s breath became more fractured.

  “I’ll tell you what I am going to do,” he murmured against her ear. “I’ll agree to plant something in the locker room this weekend to catch the snitch.”

  She let out a squeal and Brody grabbed the knife before she could accidently impale him.

  “On one condition,” he continued and her shoulders slumped again. Her reaction nearly made him laugh as he nuzzled her jaw. “If I
have to embarrass myself in front of my teammates, you have to be my date to my sister’s wedding.”

  She spun around in his arms, the close contact of her body making him groan again.

  “You want me to go to your sister’s wedding with you? As your date?”

  “Well, more like as my human shield.”

  “I’m guessing this isn’t being held at the VFW?”

  “No, it’s at some prissy four-star inn in Vermont. Does it matter?”

  She shoved him again and Brody took a step back. Embarrassment flooded her whiskey eyes. “I can’t do it, Brody. I don’t have the clothes. Judging by your sister’s outfit, I could never afford the clothes your family would expect of your date.”

  “Why are you women always so concerned with what you have to wear?”

  “Says the man whose sister lays out his clothes for him each day so he looks good.”

  He sighed in resignation as he rubbed the back of his neck. “No problem. I happen to have a good friend who loves playing fairy godmother to Cinderella.”

  Shannon opened her mouth to protest, but Brody laid a finger across her lips.

  “And I’m paying. For everything. Buy whatever you need and keep them as payment for being my date.”

  “That sounds more like Pretty Woman than Cinderella,” she said around his finger.

  Brody couldn’t respond, he was so aroused by her lips brushing against his fingertip.

  She stepped back farther, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you promise you’ll put the catalog in your locker?”

  “Oh, I didn’t say my locker, Texas.” He rocked back on his heels as her eyes narrowed to slits. “I’ll be putting it in another player’s locker.”

  “Whose?” she demanded.

  “If I tell you, we won’t be eliminating you as a suspect.” He pulled her in closer. “And I really want to eliminate you as the snitch.”

  Her eyes shone with relief and a little bit of hunger. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to prove her innocence. It wouldn’t solve the bigger problem of her knowing about his illness, but he’d deal with one thing at a time.

  “I need to go take a shower. A long cold one.”

  She gnawed on her lower lip and nodded.

  “Leave me the catalog, Shannon. And take some of that home to eat.” He brushed a damp spot from beneath her eye.

  “I’m sorry I’m such a conundrum, Brody,” she whispered.

  Brody kissed the tip of her nose. “I already told you, Shannon, I like conundrums.”

  • • •

  The scene that greeted Brody when he arrived the following evening at Will Connelly’s loft apartment was one of such pure domestic bliss he had to stifle his gag reflex. Two of the league’s most ruthless players had been reduced to lovesick puppies. William the Conqueror Connelly was frolicking on the floor with his six-month-old son, belly-farting the baby, who shrieked with laughter in response. The Devil of the NFL, Shane Devlin, was cramped on the end of the sofa, massaging his pregnant wife’s feet.

  “Wow, if this is a hot night in Married Land, count me out.”

  Connelly lifted his son off the floor and tossed him in the air. “Julianne, didn’t I tell you to take away Brody’s key?”

  “I did take his key away,” Connelly’s wife said as she carried a tray of desserts to a table beside the sofa.

  “Then how’d he get in?”

  Julianne’s amber eyes sparkled as she stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss Brody on the cheek. “I let him in,” she said with a smile. “Now, stop throwing Owen like that before he throws up on you.” She steered Brody toward a chair. “Help yourself to a cannoli, Brody. I just made them.”

  His mouth watered at the sight of the cream-filled dessert. Julianne was as much a genius in the kitchen as she was a fashion designer, but tomorrow was Friday, a heavy practice day, and he couldn’t afford to tamper with his blood sugar.

  “Brody’s on a diet,” Devlin said, saving him from an awkward moment with Julianne, who took it personally if anyone refused her offering of food.

  Carly Devlin looked up from her throne of pillows on the sofa. “A diet?” She patted her baby bump. “Great. The man with the perfect body is on a diet while I grow to be as big as a house.”

  Her husband placed his hand over hers on her belly. “Carly, you’re beautiful. You’re just tired. Especially if you think his body is more perfect than mine.”

  Connelly laughed.

  Carly beamed at her husband. “You’re right, I’m definitely confused. But I’ll need to do some more research later.”

  The couple stared at one another, silently communicating their thoughts and affection. The intimate byplay made Brody squirm with discomfort.

  “Brody’s new girlfriend has him on a special diet,” Connelly teased. “Its purpose, apparently, is to enhance his performance.”

  Both women arched an eyebrow at the sexual innuendo as their husbands laughed. Owen rocked on his hands and knees, trying unsuccessfully to crawl to Brody’s shoelace. Scooping the baby onto his lap, Brody let him gum the string on his hoodie.

  “Laugh all you want, but my reception rating is the best in the league right now.” The two men could rib him all night, but Brody’s play on field spoke for itself. His game was at its peak thanks to Shannon’s nutritional assistance.

  Devlin nodded in acquiescence before taking a swallow from his coffee mug. “Of course, you’re just standing there catching the ball.”

  “All right, you two, leave Brody alone.” Julianne made herself comfortable on the floor, leaning her back against her husband’s wide chest. Connelly’s arms closed around her as his lips found her mahogany hair. “What’s wrong, Brody? When you called, you said it was important,” she asked.

  This was the tricky part. Julianne would happily help Shannon pick out clothes, in fact, she’d revel in it. But executing the second part of his plan was more delicate and Julianne’s help was crucial for it to work.

  “Actually, I was wondering if I could speak with you alone a minute.”

  All four pairs of eyes homed in on him. Julianne’s and Carly’s were intrigued. Devlin’s, not so much. And Connelly’s—the master of the caveman persona—were wary.

  “I thought we were through with you having private conversations with my wife!”

  Julianne patted her husband on the chest. “Down boy.” She got to her feet, lifting Owen off Brody’s lap. “Come on, Brody. We can discuss your girl problems upstairs while I get this little one in his pajamas.”

  He stood to follow her, wondering when he’d become so easy to read. He hadn’t mentioned Shannon or any other woman when he’d called.

  “I warned you to be nice to Shay, Brody.” Connelly narrowed his eyes at him.

  “The team took a vote,” Devlin teased. “If you two break up, it’s you who has to leave. How’s she at running a fade route?”

  Brody flipped them both off as he climbed the narrow stairs leading up to the loft’s bedroom. Julianne laid Owen down on the changing table and began to undress the squirming baby. “Tell me what this is all about, Brody, before Will comes charging up here.” She smiled smugly to herself. “Not that I mind when he throws around the testosterone.”

  Jeez Louise. This entire night was chock-full of TMI. Brody sat on the corner of the king-sized bed his teammate undoubtedly used to throw his testosterone around in before springing back to his feet to pace the room.

  “You know my sister is getting married next weekend,” he began.

  “Of course I do, Brody. I designed her gown, remember?” She eyed him quizzically from over her son’s naked belly. “Will and I are guests, too. The inn is supposed to be gorgeous.” She kissed Owen’s feet. “And this little guy is going to stay with Grandma and Hank.”

  Damn. How did he not know that? Probably because he di
dn’t give a crap who his sister invited to her wedding. Except all the single women queued up to dance with him. As if the weekend wouldn’t be awkward enough. He and Shannon would not only have his family to convince they were dating, but his über-observant teammate as well.

  Brody shoved a hand through his hair. “Perfect. Listen, I was wondering if you could help out my date.”

  Julianne’s hands stilled, half the snaps of the baby’s onesie undone. “Your mom said you weren’t bringing a date.”

  He stopped his pacing, dumbfounded that his mother was discussing this with more people than just his sisters. “Well I am bringing a date,” he said a little too defensively.

  Julianne tsked at him, resuming her task. “You need to let your mother know. There’s a lot that goes into planning a wedding, Brody. Last-minute surprises won’t be appreciated.”

  Brody processed her reprimand, making a mental note to text his mother later that night. “Got it. Now, will you help me?”

  Handing him the now fussy baby, she disappeared into the bathroom to dispose of the diaper and wash her hands. “Of course I will, Brody. But who’s the lucky girl?”

  “Her name is Shannon. She’s a grad student who works for the team.”

  Julianne’s face registered her surprise as she came out of the bathroom drying her hands on a towel. “So the girl from the cafeteria really is your girlfriend?”

  He sank back down on the corner of the bed, cradling Owen who gummed the ear of a stuffed bunny. “We’re involved.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Still, he kept his eyes on the baby rather than meet Julianne’s shrewd ones.

  “I thought you gave up on casual flings? You said you wanted to find a girl who gets you?”

  Brody wasn’t sure if it was the sweet smell of a sleepy baby in his arms or the unabashed happiness and desire he’d witnessed between his friends, but he suddenly felt as if he were suffocating. He wanted something except he didn’t know what that something was. “It’s gonna be hard to find a woman who gets me if I don’t even get myself,” he blurted out.